<Header>
<Author: 韓愈>
<Title: 山石>
<Format: 七言古詩>
<Year: 1944>
<BookName: A FURTHER SELECTION FROM THE THREE HUNDRED POEMS OF THE T'ANG DYNASTY>
<Translator: SOAME JENYNS>
<TranslatedTitle: The Hill Rocks>
<BookPage: 38-39>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 1, 2>
<End Header>
<Poem>
山石犖確行徑微，
黃昏到寺蝙蝠飛。
升堂坐階新雨足，
芭蕉葉大支子肥。
僧言古壁佛畫好，
以火來照所見稀。
鋪牀拂席置羹飯，
疎糲亦足飽我飢。
夜深靜臥百蟲絕，
清月出嶺光入扉。
天明獨去無道路，
出入高下窮煙霏。
山紅澗碧紛爛漫，
時見松櫪皆十圍。
當流赤足蹋澗石，
水聲激激風吹衣。
人生如此自可樂，
豈必局束爲人鞿。
嗟哉吾黨二三子，
安得至老不更歸。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
THE mountain boulders reveal the faint impression of a dangerous and rugged path;
In the yellow dusk I come on a monastery,
The bats wheel around me
As I sit on the steps of the main hall.
The freshly fallen rain has just ceased
The leaves of the plantain are now fully spread,
The gardenia buds are bursting.
The monk tells me the Buddhist frescoes are good;
He brings a torch to light them for me,
But what is seen is faint.
He spreads out the bed and stakes down the mat,
He sets out soup and rice, coarse yet ample enough to satisfy my hunger.
The night is dark and I rest in peace, 
All the insects go to rest;
A clear moon rises above the mountain and shines in through the door.
At earliest dawn under bright heavens I go on my way alone, 
I cannot see my path $((because it is so early))$
Now losing it, now striking it again, 
Stumbling and recovering, lost in mist and haze.
The hills are bathed in red, the mountain streams show blue; 
Numerous (streams) sparkle and meander on their way;
From time to time I see pine and oak ten spans round,
When my path crosses a stream I wade over the stones with bare feet;
The sound of the water tinkles in my ears, 
The wind blows through my clothes,
If only life were always like this―how happy man might be!
Why must the affairs of men bind him as it were with bit and bridle?
I would say to my friends
How can I not wish to grow old here and why should I return home?
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
THE mountain boulders reveal the faint impression of a dangerous and rugged path;
In the yellow dusk I come on a monastery, The bats wheel around me
As I sit on the steps of the main hall. The freshly fallen rain has just ceased
The leaves of the plantain are now fully spread, The gardenia buds are bursting.
The monk tells me the Buddhist frescoes are good;
He brings a torch to light them for me, But what is seen is faint.
He spreads out the bed and stakes down the mat, He sets out soup and rice,
coarse yet ample enough to satisfy my hunger.
The night is dark and I rest in peace, All the insects go to rest;
A clear moon rises above the mountain and shines in through the door.
At earliest dawn under bright heavens I go on my way alone, I cannot see my path $((because it is so early))$
Now losing it, now striking it again, Stumbling and recovering, lost in mist and haze.
The hills are bathed in red, the mountain streams show blue; Numerous (streams) sparkle and meander on their way;
From time to time I see pine and oak ten spans round,
When my path crosses a stream I wade over the stones with bare feet;
The sound of the water tinkles in my ears, The wind blows through my clothes,
If only life were always like this―how happy man might be!
Why must the affairs of men bind him as it were with bit and bridle?
I would say to my friends
How can I not wish to grow old here and why should I return home?
<End Formatted Translation>